


Time Alone

by landrews



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landrews/pseuds/landrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean still has trouble parsing reality. Bob Marley isn't helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers S6
> 
> Written May 2011 for prompt, 'time will tell'
> 
> Title and lyrics from Bob Marley song "Time Will Tell"

 

 

Lisa's heat has settled into his skin, sparking his own. It fires up slow, lighting pathways that all lead to his groin. It's late and the TV's off, Ben in bed. Lisa stacked the disc player while he poured the wine; Merlot, because it's the only kind he's developed any tolerance for despite Lisa's coaxing him into as many tastings as she dared. On the couch, propped between his legs as they watch the fire in the grate burn low, she wiggles back against him.

He hums low in his throat and shifts. She tilts her head to glance up at him and he smiles and then sips his wine, before setting the glass onto the floor and letting his hand trail up her breast. That makes her press into both his palm and cock, and he drops his head back on a true moan, thrusting his hips against her. She giggles and that makes him laugh. Then he's grabbing at her hips, his hands sliding over her back and shoulders, catching in her hair as she wriggles down and over onto her belly. While he's still trying to keep them from falling off the couch, she's already got her mouth against the zipper of his jeans, blowing hot, moist air onto him.

“Fuck,” he groans.

As the disc shifts, the music low and bluesy, she mouths him, following the line of his cock as it straightens fast. She gives way when he reaches down to adjust it, and then goes back to tormenting him. Caressing her hair from her face, he relaxes. He wasn't sure what she wanted from him, when she guided them into the night, listening to music he doesn't know, drinking wine like... like it's normal for him; but this he knows, he can give her this, her idea of romance.

It's been five months. They've been sleeping together since the start, though he doesn't allow himself the lie that it's been easy, that there weren't nights he mis-used her, demanded more than asked, came to bed wrecked and drunk and needy. He's better now. She's made him better. Let him take, and only asserted her own rules, and needs, and wants as he could handle them. 

He almost fits into their lives now. 

His cock surges when Lisa's deft fingers pop the button on his jeans and then work the zipper down. He's sticking out over the top of his black briefs. Cool air wafts over him, followed by the hot-wet of Lisa's tongue around the head, across his slit. Every drop of blood in him rushes downward. He gets ahold of her upper arms and urges her up to meet his mouth. The contact, her tongue gliding along the edge of his, her body melding into him, breasts and breath soft, hips and belly hard and taut beneath his fingers and thumbs, skin fever-hot, legs tangling; she absorbs him, makes him part of her, no hesitation, no reservation. He wants... he just wants.

Easing her to the side, he flips them, tucking her beneath him, balancing himself over her on elbows and knees and feet and kisses his way down her throat, hands touching her wherever his lips and tongue and teeth aren't, stripping her easily, letting her tug his tee shirt off as he works his way lower, pulls her panties down and off, encouraged by her gasps and whimpers and the steady stroke of her hands as they soothe the burning spiral of need that makes his heart beat too hard and his hands shake into something he can control. 

He wasn't like this before. Not like this.

Lisa's scent rises as she opens her legs to him. He forces himself to wait, to be still. The music sways and dips, there's a man's voice crooning words he doesn't bother to try and understand. The tone is right, that's all that matters. His heartbeat slows. He looks up, skimming his gaze over her, lingering on the rise her natural breasts, the stretch marks that mar the sides, the hard pebble of her perfect nipples. Knowing just how she'd press one against his tongue if he rolled the other between his fingers, he meets her dark eyes, pupils wide in the light from the fire. Her tongue darts out to touch her bottom lip before her teeth close on it and she lets her head drop back, and her thighs widen. 

He exposes her clit, hidden in her folds, explores the dusky pink lips below, spread open by his fingers. They are soft, smooth, glistening with proof she needs him, too. He laps at her. She bucks up, sharp, a strangled half-moan jerked from her. Her thighs quiver, as she waits for him to continue. He eases in closer and kisses her right thigh, letting his cheek brush across her as he turns his head and kisses the left. Her fingers follow the curve of his scalp as he focuses himself, letting the music slide into him, and savors her.

The song has shifted when Dean comes up for air again, rising up on his knees. Lisa settles with a sigh, her belly jumping under his hand again when he brushes his thumb across her clit, swollen and sensitive. Something about heaven. Swiping his wet face across his shoulder, he closes his hands under her firm thighs, and leans forward to kiss her as he drags her down the couch. He wants her tight and slick from her orgasm, mouth flavored by his lips and tongue. 

She's greedy for him, fisting her hand in his hair and licking into his mouth. He teases her, deepening the kiss for just a moment, but then drawing back again to shove his briefs and jeans down his thighs. The release of pressure, the cool air, feels good. Stroking himself, down hard and back up slow, he watches her watch him rub his thumb across the head of his cock, and feels himself stiffen further in his hand, from her rapt attention.

A log falls in the grate, the fire shooting shadows and cinder over them. She jumps while he ducks, covering her, and that feels so damn good against the length of his cock, that his hips stutter hard, despite the pain of the burning embers peppering his back. She laughs and groans, shuddering against him, saying, “Ow, my shins.” 

“Ow?” he laughs, and that doesn't help, because suddenly Dean's sinking into her silky heat and he can't take this slow. He fucks into her, past the throb of her let down, and then she's fucking him back, fingers anchored along the blades of his shoulders, breath and teeth on his neck, letting him drive in deep, full hilt, urging him on, into her, over and over, until he's damn near lost, but then she's going nova, lighting him up, drawing him home. She meets him there as he lets go, coming hard again, taking everything he has, giving him everything he needs.

When his breathing slows, he rolls them onto their sides, though his ass is hanging off the couch and his calves and feet are still tangled in his jeans, but this is heaven, and he doesn't want to lose her warmth just yet. The singer's vocals are soft. Dean can make out the words, _weep no more, children, weep no more_ , and a moment later, _run, crucify the dread, time alone, time will tell_ and yeah, that's what Lisa's done, crucified his dread of living after... 

The next words send a cold rush of adrenaline through him.

“What is this?” 

Lisa opens her eyes, her arms and legs tightening around him as he stiffens. “Hmm?”

“This song,” he says, and sits up, pushing away from her, standing to pull up his briefs and jeans.

_think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell_

“Um..” she says, following him up.

_think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell_

He stalks to the stereo.

_time alone, oh, time will tell_

“Bob Marley.”

_think you're in heaven, but..._

Dean finds the right button and the song cuts off. Silence fills his ears, but the rest of the lyric fills his head. 

_ya living in hell_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-hm! Ooh-oo-oo-oo-er. Mm-mm-mm._   
> _Jah would never give the power to a baldhead_   
> _Run come crucify the Dread._
> 
>  
> 
> _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._  
>  _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_  
>  _Ya think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._
> 
> _Back them up; oh, not the brothers,_  
>  _But the ones who sets 'em up._
> 
> _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_  
>  _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._  
>  _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_  
>  _Ya think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._
> 
> _Mm-mm. Mm-mm._  
>  _Oh, ma ..................._  
>  _Oh, ma ..................._  
>  _Oh, ma children are cryin'._  
>  _Oh, children, weep no more!_  
>  _Oh, ma sycamore tree, saw the freedom tree._  
>  _All you ... have spoke:_  
>  _Oh, children, weep no more;_  
>  _Weep no more: children, weep no more! ___
> 
> _Jah would never give the power to a baldhead_   
> _Run come crucify the Dread._   
> _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_   
> _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_   
> _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell;_   
> _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._   
> _Time alone - oh, time will tell:_   
> _Think you're in heaven, but ya living in hell._


End file.
